Never Did Run Smooth
by piccolina789
Summary: "You know, Sara, I'm really getting tired of this." Make it through a smidge of angst, and it'll pay off in a smutty way. Mind the rating!


**A/N: Just a few scenes of my imagination from post-Dead Doll Grissom/Sara life. Parts of it popped into my head and I wanted to write it out. **

**It gets angsty, but I'll make it up to you. I promise. :) Enjoy!**

* * *

_The course of love never did run smooth. _

_-William Shakespeare _

* * *

Grissom pulled his car into the townhouse's garage and practically sprinted towards the door, one thing and one thing only on his mind: Sara.

It seemed to him that for a very, very long time, she was the one constant thing in his life that made him happy. And it took a very, very long time for him to realize it. But now that he had, and after coming so close to losing her, he spent every second just waiting to be with her again.

He walked through the door to see her unhooking Hank's leash from his collar. She looked up and gave him a faint smile. He beamed back in response, and went straight to her, folding her into his arms as the dog lapped up water from his bowl.

"I missed you, honey," he whispered in her ear after brushing his lips against her cheek.

They pulled away, but Grissom kept his hands on her shoulders, his eyes devouring every detail of her face.

"Your dog's getting old," Sara said. "I wanted to go for a run… I went for a slow stroll."

"He can't keep up with you," Grissom responded, squeezing her shoulders.

She backed out of his embrace.

"I'm going to go run," she said quietly.

He caught her hand on her way out.

"It's raining."

"Just a little."

"You'll be cold, honey," he said, his eyes sweeping over her tank top and faded Harvard sweatpants.

"I'll be fine," she said, pulling the last of her fingers from his grip.

"Just be careful," he added. "It's getting dark, too."

"I don't need you to take care of me."

The response stopped him in his tracks. He hadn't meant…

He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Sara spoke.

"I'm sorry," she said dully.

He took a step towards her, but she took one back, holding up her hand.

"I just… need to clear my head a bit. Okay? I'll be back."

With that and a slam of the door, she was gone, leaving a pressing silence all around him.

Outside, Sara took a deep breath of chilly Las Vegas air and started to jog. Her legs worked faster and faster, not caring where they took her, until she was miles past Grissom's townhouse, soaked to the bone from the misting rain and gasping for air.

She crouched over and put her hands on her knees, panting as she regained her breath. A sudden swell of emotion overwhelmed her and she took a kick at a nearby tree.

"Shit," she growled as her toes made contact with the hardened wood.

She sank to the ground at the tree's base, burying her face in her hands. No amount of tree abusing would calm her temper. No distance could chase away the nightmares. No matter how hard she worked her body, she couldn't escape it. Whatever _it _was.

Her entire body was soon shaking with chills, but, refusing to admit Grissom was right, she stood up to begin her jog back, convincing herself that it would warm her up. Only problem was, she had no idea where she had ended up.

She started to head back in the general direction she had come from, but the first street sign she had encountered proved to be no help whatsoever.

"Shit!"

She screamed it this time, scaring a flock of birds from their hiding spot in a nearby shrub. She collapsed on a bus bench. Her hand moved to her pockets, but, of course, she had left her cell on Grissom's kitchen counter. Just great.

"Well, you told those birds who's boss."

She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of a voice. She whipped around to see a sweaty, panting Nick, shirt clinging to his chest from the rain, hands on a his hips and a big smile on his face.

"Nick," she breathed. "You scared the hell out of me."

"Sorry," he said, winking at her.

Sara let her body relax, slumping against the back of the bench.

"What are you doing all the way out here?" Nick asked, taking a seat beside her.

"I could ask you the same thing."

Nick quirked an eyebrow at her.

"I live out here, darlin'," he said.

Sara's mouth opened slightly as she looked around. The dark had masked the vaguely familiar neighborhood. She had been to Nick's at least a dozen times.

"But you're…"

"A good ten miles from Grissom's," Nick finished. "Which brings me back to my question – what are you doing out here?"

"I… I went for a run."

Nick gaped at her.

"You training for a marathon or something?"

When Sara didn't smile at his joke, the laughter faded from his face.

"Hey," he said, quieter, leaning in to nudge her shoulder with his. "You okay?"

Sara stared straight ahead.

"Uh huh."

Nick let out a long sigh.

"You know, I was never much of a runner," he said. "Save for that marathon thing we trained for, I never ran a mile in my life. Until… that day."

Sara picked her head up, but didn't quite look him in the eye. She knew which day he was referring. The day he was kidnapped and put underground.

"Well, a few days afterwards," he continued. "I was all alone, in my apartment… these… voices and memories just… swirling all around me. It was driving me crazy. I had to get up and _do _something. So I ran."

This time, Sara did meet his gaze. His eyes were full of genuine concern.

"Helps clear your head," he said.

"Yeah," Sara said softly, nodding. "The more I run, the less I think."

"You must be one hell of a thinker, darlin'," Nick said. "I never ran ten miles. But then again, I never was as tough as you."

Sara let the corners of her mouth curl up.

"What do you say to a ride back home?" Nick asked, taking her hand and squeezing her fingers gently. "Unless you're up for another ten miles?"

Sara let out a noise she hoped passed for a laugh. She hadn't let out a real one in weeks.

"No," she said. "A ride would be great."

They sat in silence on the dark, gray bench surrounded by dark, gray houses before Nick stood up before her, offering his hand.

"C'mon."

He led her back to his apartment, turning up the heat in his truck full blast, trying to force the goose bumps on Sara's arms to go away. When he pulled in the driveway of Grissom's townhouse, she let out a soft sigh. She didn't move for several minutes.

"Sara," Nick said over the grumble of the truck. "You gonna go in?"

She swallowed.

"Yeah."

"Sara," Nick softly repeated, touching her elbow. "Is everything okay? I mean, did you and Grissom… get in a fight or anything?"

"No," she sighed. "I just…"

"Hey," he cut in. "I know what it's like. Sometimes all you want is to be alone. But don't retreat into yourself, okay? You've got lots of people who care about you. 'Kay?"

Sara nodded.

"Okay."

She gave him her best attempt at a smile.

"Thanks, Nick."

"Any time, Sara."

She slid out of Nick's truck and made her way up the front door. She found it unlocked, lucky, since she had left her key right next to her cell phone.

Grissom was beside her the minute she closed the door.

"Oh, thank god," he was saying, his arms around her. Her own arms hung limp at her sides. "I was so worried."

"It was just a run," Sara said, shrugging.

"Honey, you were gone two hours," he said, pulling away, but running his hands up and down her arms. "And you're freezing."

"I'm fine," she reassured him.

Nevertheless, he strode into the living room and came back with their largest, heaviest blanket and draped it around her shoulders.

"I'll make tea," he said, pressing a kiss onto her forehead.

"I'm fine," she repeated. "Really. I'm just going to take a shower."

Sara made her way towards their bedroom, shrugging the blanket off on the way and dropping it onto the couch.

"You know, Sara, I'm really getting tired of this."

The words halted her mid-step. Three paces from the doorway, she turned around.

"Tired of what?" she asked testily.

"This," Grissom repeated, gesturing in her general direction. "This… moodiness. This ghost of a woman, who's getting so thin, she's fading away before my very eyes. This person, whom I'm afraid I really don't know at all, who flinches at my touches and cringes at every kiss."

"Well, I'm sorry, Gil," she snapped. "I'm sorry I had to spend eight days in a hospital getting fluids pumped into my body while everyone whispered behind my back and treated me like I would break if they breathed too loud. I'm sorry I can't be Little Miss Sunshine and go about my daily business pretending it doesn't bother me. Sorry."

She spun on her heel, making it only one pace towards the bedroom before Grissom spoke again.

"That's just it, Sara," Grissom practically spat, stepping a few inches into the living room. "That's _exactly_ it. All you do is snap at me. For anything and everything. I'm tired of it, Sara, I really am. I have tried my best to be here for you, but, just like it always has been, this is a two-way street. It's not just you."

"No, it's not," Sara shouted. "It's you and me. And Nick and Greg, Warrick, Catherine, Ecklie, Hodges… the whole damn lab is now involved in our relationship since you so graciously let them know."

"Oh, is that what this is about?" Grissom retorted, his face getting redder by the minute. "Then I guess it's my turn for an apology. Sorry, Sara. I'm sorry I care about you so much I let something slip when I thought I might lose you forever. I'm sorry everyone now knows how much you mean to me."

"I was _happy _Gil," Sara said, exasperated. "Just you and me. But one, single person found out, and look what happened. Look where we are now."

"I'm still here," Grissom said, much more softly. "Are you?"

Pressing silence surrounded them for several moments as they stared at each other from across the room.

"I think," Sara said slowly. "We should take some time."

"Sara…"

She backed away from him a little, her hand reaching out behind her to grasp the door's frame.

"I'll, uh, spend the night at my place tonight," she continued. "Just some… space."

She slipped into the shadowy doorway and out of sight. Staring at where she had stood, Grissom sunk into an armchair. Her words stung like needles. She hadn't spent the night in her own apartment for over a year. It was basically empty, having moved the last remaining essentials into his place last month. And yet, he could hear her moving around, pulling open drawers and rustling about. With a final zip, she stood in the doorway once more, a black overnight bag slung across her shoulder.

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but closed it again, thinking better of it. She slipped past him in silence, and with a snap of the door, she was gone. He didn't know how long he sat, frozen and swamped with swirling thoughts, but eventually, he made his way to the dark bedroom. He stood in the threshold, not wanting to enter. It had been a long time since he spent the night alone.

He toed off his shoes and sighed as he stretched out on the bed. It was probably his mind teasing him, but it felt cold and much too big without her there. He didn't like it at all.

* * *

Hours passed, and Grissom hadn't moved. He remained laying flat on his bed, staring at the dark ceiling, her absence pressing around him. Outside, the light mist had turned into an ominous thunderstorm, lighting flashing bright streaks in the sky, illuminating the shadows in his bedroom for brief seconds. Thunder boomed in the distance, so loud sometimes that the lamp on his bedside table shook.

Every once in a while, Grissom rolled on his side, staring, almost unblinkingly, at his cell phone laying beside the lamp for several minutes straight. As much as he willed it to, it never rang.

He slumped back to his usual position after the latest staring session. He pressed his eyes closed and could see Sara, see her moving about, alone as he was, in her apartment, the lights off and the bare floors and windows making echoing noises as she made herself a cup of tea or curled up on her sofa. She loved thunderstorms, especially nighttime ones. He wished she were here. He wished he hadn't yelled. He wished he just understood.

Suddenly, he bolted upright in his bed, alert at a supposed noise between claps of thunder. It had sounded almost like… but it couldn't have been. Who would be out in this storm? Especially as it was his and Sara's night off… everyone from the lab would be at work.

He settled back into the pillows for only a brief moment before he heard the sharp rapping again. It had to be a knock.

Grissom slipped off the bed and through the shadowy rooms. He paused with his hand on the knob, pressing his eye against he peephole. He couldn't see anyone outside. But it was so dark…

He cracked the door open, already getting splashed with wayward raindrops, the claps of thunder much louder than they were in the bedroom. And there, standing before him, absolutely soaked to the bone and shaking like a leaf was a scared, broken-looking Sara. His Sara.

Her fingers were covering her mouth, trembling like he had never seen before. As soon as she looked at him, brown eyes meeting blue, everything that was said was forgotten.

"Sara," he breathed, striding past the door to her.

He took her in his arms, squeezing as tightly as he could, hoping to transfer some of his heat to her. Her arms were caught between them, her whole body shaking.

"I'm getting you wet," she choked.

His fingers grasped at her hair, drops of water sliding off the ends. They were under his veranda, but rain and wind still whipped around them.

"I don't care," he whispered.

But as her body continued to tremble, he put a strong but comforting hand on her lower back, guiding her inside.

"Let's get you warm," he murmured into her cheek.

Ten minutes and a cup of tea later, Sara was sitting cross-legged in front of his small fireplace, the same woolen blanket draped over her shoulders and her long fingers curled around a large, white mug.

"Honey," Grissom said softly, dropping to sit next to her. "Are you ready to talk?"

Sara was taking slow, deep breaths, staring straight ahead into the hearth, the fire dancing in her deep brown eyes. She nodded, as slow and as even as her breaths.

She turned her head to look at him, her chest rising and falling more rapidly with each passing second. She opened her mouth, but it took several moments for any sound to come out.

"I…" she quavered. "I shouldn't… I-"

He covered one of her freezing, trembling hands with his larger, warmer one.

"Don't," he said. "You don't have to."

Sara's lips pursed, then quivered. She squeezed her eyes closed and tears streamed out of them. Her breaths were rattling now, and Grissom was sure he hadn't seen someone look so scared in his life.

He reached out for her shoulders and guided her to him, where she collapsed. He pressed her head against his chest, her fingers gripping at his sweatshirt. He rocked her a little, resting his chin on the top of her head, fingers running through her wet hair.

"I know," he whispered. "I know, honey."

"I shouldn't have…" she sobbed. "I didn't mean to…"

"I know."

She allowed him to rock her, cradle her, which, for her, said a lot. She had never been one to even show vulnerability, let alone let someone comfort her. As his fingers continued to work through her hair, he realized this was the first time she had allowed herself to break down… after it had happened. He guessed she hoped that if she shut everything away tight, never let herself revisit what had happened, that it would all go away. But things proved different. The nightmares proved different.

Sara was wiggling in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck to hug him back.

"I'm sorry," she breathed in to his ear. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," he whispered back. "Honey, it's okay."

She pulled back a little, revealing the tear streaks on her face. His heart nearly broke looking at her.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Sara," he said softly, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I-"

Suddenly, Sara's lips were pressed hard against his, her hands buried in his hair.

"I love you," she murmured against his lips.

She was kissing him fiercely, eagerly, a way she hadn't kissed in a long while, holding his head in her hands. He could feel his knees trembling, and it had nothing to do with her weight on his legs.

"Love you," she repeated into his neck. "So much."

She pulled away again and looked deep into his clear blue eyes.

"Bed," she said. "Now."

"Sara-"

"Now," she moaned pleadingly. "I need you."

As if his knees weren't giving out already, those three words sent a ripple throughout his entire body. Sara's fingers were already working at his shirt buttons, her breathing growing heavier and faster as they continued to kiss. They struggled to their feet and Grissom pushed the straps of her tank top down her shoulders, running his fingers over the newly exposed skin.

Sara took both of his hands in hers and guided them down to the hem of her shirt, helping him pull it over her head. Grissom backed her against the nearest wall, narrowly missing the bookshelf, cupping Sara's breasts through the fabric of her bra. A moan escaped her lips, and Grissom took no time in removing the last barrier preventing them from feeling skin against skin. When the bra was discarded and tossed upon the growing pile of clothes, he relished of the feel of her chest against his.

They kept kissing, stumbling in the flickering firelight, on the way to their bedroom, which, only an hour before, had felt so lonely and empty. Just like with him, Sara knew how to take something empty and make it whole again.

His hands were tugging at her hair, which had dried into messy curls after its rain shower, and hers were creeping around his back, her fingernails digging into his skin. He tossed her onto the deep green sheets and she reached out to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him down towards her. He crawled on top of her, running his hands up her sides, down her arms, and finally, towards her face. He traced every detail of her features with delicate fingers before lowering his face towards hers and taking his mouth to her once again.

They tossed and tumbled for a while until Grissom was back on top of her, and Sara's hands once again directed Grissom's to where she wanted them to be. His fingers lingered at the drawstring to her pants.

"Please," Sara breathed.

He smiled as he tugged on the strings until they became loose, and, with Sara's helpful wiggling, tugged the pants down to her ankles and off her feet. He tossed them aside and turned back towards her, kissing her ankle. He worked his way up her long, lanky legs, his hand on one leg, his mouth on the other, kissing her calf, then her knee, her thigh, and finally, just under her naval. His fingers lingered by her core, already sensing her need for him, her desire for his touch. He traced slow circles on the outside of her panties, and Sara whimpered, squirming. He smiled at her impatience, but obliged her want by hooking his fingers around her waistband and tugging the cotton fabric down to her ankles. His eyes swept over the long, slender figure sprawled out before him. His initial thought was that she was too thin, but he pushed that aside to appreciate how much more he fell in love with her each time he laid eyes on her. Abruptly, he wanted to do nothing but please her. His need to touch her, taste her, feel her, was as strong as her want.

He grabbed both her ankles and tugged her towards the bottom of the bed, sliding off the bed to the floor, kneeling before her. He placed his hands on her knees, slowly and gently separating her legs to make room for him. He brought his head closer to her, his beard tickling the inside of her thighs, and placed his mouth at her opening. At Sara's sharp intake of breath, he started to work, slowly at first, his mouth pulling and pushing at just the right time and at just the right speed. He knew her body almost as well as he knew his own. He wanted to keep his mouth on her as long as possible, claim her as his and let the world know that she always would be.

His tongue flicked and searched, his fingers slipping in to help the process. He could feel her pulsating muscles, the tension inside her. A sudden spasm rippled through her, and he knew she was close. His fingers still swirling and circling deep within, he parted from her for a moment.

"Let go, honey," he said groggily, wanting to experience her release nearly as much as she did. "Go ahead, Sara. Let me feel you."

Her breathing was heavy and fast, her fingers gripping at the rumpled sheets gathered at the foot of the bed. Her moans were escalating, and Grissom pressed two fingers hard against her, simultaneously teasing her folds with small nips from his teeth. Sara erupted in a scream, and her body exploded, shaking around him. Her hands moved from the sheets to his head, her fingers working and grasping his hair.

Grissom kissed where his fingers had just been before gently moving her knees closer together. He planted more small kisses up her body until he neared her neck.

Sara's hands grasped frantically at him like a wild animal, her fingers flying to his belt buckle the moment it was in reach, her trembling digits still managing to unlatch it. He shook his legs a little, helping her push his jeans to his knees. She bit her lip and lifted the corners of her mouth when she laid eyes on his boxers; she had no idea that he had been throbbing for her for what seemed like ages.

She swiftly switched spots with him, her legs now straddling his hips, and she reached into his boxers, taking him into both her hands. She rubbed him firmly, but slowly, and Grissom could feel a familiar warmth seep over his entire body. No one could touch him like Sara could. Nobody could make him feel as complete and whole as she did when they were together. He lifted his hips a bit as she pulled the last remaining piece of clothing between him down his legs. She began to lower her head towards him, but he caught her before her lips met their destination.

"Sara," he said throatily. "Tonight's all about you."

"I want to," she said huskily, her hands still fast and furious.

"Honey…"

"Please?"

She looked at him for confirmation; her deep brown eyes round with want, pleading and almost desperate. She was making it very, very hard to resist her.

Taking his silence as approval, she lowered her head again, his body tingling at the first touch. The tenacity and hard shell she displayed at work was a far cry from the Sara here. Here, everything about her was soft. Her kisses, the curve of her breasts, the arc of her back, her whispers and touches. The soft, slow strokes of her tongue.

He could feel his body beginning to tense, the trembling in his stomach growing to a great quake. Sara seemed to know what he wanted before he did, as if she were in tune to his subconscious desires and most inward cravings. Soon, Sara was massaging him, moving her mouth and head forward and backwards again in perfect rhythm. It was too much for him to take. One glance down to see Sara's eyes staring back at him was enough to push him right over the edge. His body exploded, shaking with spasms as intense as the ones that had rippled through Sara just moments before.

She emerged, a toothy grin spreading across her face, and Grissom's hands acted of their own accord, grasping her face and pressing her lips to his. He kissed her as if both their lives depended on it, as if it were the last act of passion either of them would ever experience. They wrestled again, hands exploring each other, Grissom's roaming over any part of the body Sara called a "mess of limbs" he could reach.

Soon enough, he was panting above her, his hands placed on either side of her head, hers on his waist. He slipped inside her and pressed his body down on top of her.

"I love you," he groaned against her cheek as they moved in tandem. "God, Sara, I love you."

"Me too," she gasped. "I love you too. Oh! So… so much."

He could feel the tension rising again, this time, between the both of them. He wanted her to go first. He rocked harder against her, his hands snaking around he shoulders to grasp her bare back. He gave everything he had into each movement, each thrust. He felt Sara tightening around him.

"Tell me," he panted. "Tell me, Sara."

"M-more," she stammered. "One… one more."

His hands moved from her shoulder blades to her backside, pushing to raise her hips in tandem with his thrusts. Sara's hands fell from his waist as she lost control of her body once more. He wished it could last forever, watching her in her ecstasy, but he too, soon lost control as his mind went blissfully blank and he entered the place only Sara could take him to.

Within moments, they laid side by side, both panting and gasping for air. Sara's fingers crept across the sheets to find his, intertwining them together. She turned her head on the pillow to face him, squeezing his hand.

"I…" she started. "I…"

"Have no words?" Grissom offered.

Sara laughed softly.

"Yeah."

She shifted her way towards him, curling up against him and laying her head on his chest. His hands automatically went to her hair, twisting the soft stands between his fingers. They lay like that for several minutes, and Grissom was almost about to surrender to the heaviness in his eyes before a soft voice brought him back to the dark room and the leggy brunette in his arms.

"Gil?"

He rolled towards her a little, planting a kiss on her hairline.

"Hm?"

"I'm so sorry," she said, her voice catching a little. "For everything I've been putting you through."

"Sara…"

"No," she said, more firmly. "You didn't deserve any of this. And I…"

"Sara."

He reached out to caress her face, but she turned her head away from him, giving him a glimpse of a tear sliding down her cheek.

"I… don't deserve you," she finished.

He propped himself up on an elbow, this time capturing her face in her hand and turning it back towards him.

"Sara," he said firmly. "I don't ever want to hear you say that."

Sara's chin trembled.

"Honey, you are the _best_ thing that's ever happened to me," he continued. "And I mean that in every sense of the word. You make me so happy."

"Even when I'm an irritable, petulant bitch?"

Grissom couldn't help but laugh. He moved to close the few inches between them and kissed her nose.

"Even when you need three cups of coffee to get out of your grumpy, cantankerous mood in the mornings."

Sara laughed too, and they both settled back into each other's arms.

"Gil?"

"Hm?"

"Can we make it through this?"

He squirmed a little to look her in the eye.

"Of course."

Sara's finger trailed down his jaw line to his chin, playing with his lips.

"What makes you so sure?"

He kissed her finger before giving her a small smile. The answer was as simple as it was complicated.

"We have each other."

* * *

**Thank you, thank you for reading! Let me know what you thought? **


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